


Not Just the Hormones

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: Khadgar starts getting a bit carried away with his imagination





	

It was one of the least entertaining parts of being the Consel Mage; sitting through interminable speeches by boring representatives who felt they had to up the previous bid on most number of adverbs used in any given sentence.  Khadgar found himself growing twitchy, even though Sir Anduin Lothar was sitting there beside him, motionless and attentive and obviously quite able to cope.

So Khadgar began the little fantasy game he’d played as a young trainee when classes were particularly dull.  He started imagining each of the speakers wearing or doing something peculiar.

The large, hairy man who was dressed in full length robes suddenly was wearing only a very tiny pink dance skirt, with a fringe.  And pink dance shoes.  With feathers.  Pink was very obviously his colour.

Then there was the woman sitting beside him, whose face had the aesthetic appeal of a dried melon.  Her hair became green, twined with flowers and singing birds, and she was wrapped in a girdle of purple spidersilk and was dancing on the table, while playing a small gold lute.

Khadgar choked on a laugh and felt Lothar stir beside him, and speak very softly.

“What is it?”

Expression composed, Khadgar turned to whisper to him.  “Nothing, sorry.”

“Patience, spellchucker.  It’ll soon be over.”

Khadgar settled in the seat, turned slightly to the side, and watched the Lord Commander from the corner of his eye.  There he sat in his armour, arms folded on the table top, head up and eyes watchful, being his normal familiar restrained self.  But no, he wasn’t in his armour.

He was naked.

Khadgar stirred, tried to banish the image, but it wouldn’t go away.  Lothar was definitely naked.  His large, capable hands moved down to rest on his thighs, and every small muscle and scar and patch of skin was visible under the candlelight.  His stomach was firm but just a little rounded, both from the way he sat and perhaps from the dinner they had eaten earlier.  The scars from a dozen battles were pale lines and patches beneath the lightly streaked hair on his broad chest.  Nipples, round and wrinkled and dark, stood out against the golden-brown skin.  When he moved and settled, muscles stirred beneath the skin, joints flexed in shoulder and elbow and knee.  His legs were long and well shaped, dusted with darker hair that faded down to his ankles and large, broad feet. 

And resting on his thighs, nestled and quiescent in their bed of dark hair, was a very impressive set of genitals.

Khadgar knew those genitals, from brief glimpses when he’d changed during patrols, all unconcerned about anyone seeing him.  He knew how firm were the lightly haired balls, how long and thick was the penis.  He imagined it then, how large it would grow as it stirred from its bed, became engorged by excitement, rose with its glistening head, imagined how it would be to take and hold it, stroke its velvety length, kiss and caress it, take it into his mouth and into his body and be fucked and feel it release the seed from those two great balls as Lothar arched back and howled his pleasure…

Khadgar straightened with a snap that nearly dislocated his spine.  Good Lord, what was he doing!!!  Lothar turned to him again, decently dressed, and reached out to touch Khadgar’s arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Khadgar stood, trying to cover his unexpected arousal without being obvious.  He bent closer to Lothar to whisper:  “Excuse me,  I need to relieve myself.”

Lothar nodded without comment, and turned back to the proceedings.

So Khadgar went to relieve himself, though not in the way the Lord Commander thought, and as he did, he wondered at how a person could know so little of themselves.  Why not have such feelings for the pretty daughter of one of the Lordaeran nobles, who so obviously wanted to get inside a young mage’s pants?  Why not the equally attractive son the Court librarian, who might just want the same thing?

Why his very own disinterested, totally straight Lord Commander the one, of all damned people!

Finally, more comfortable though no less disturbed, he put it down to hormones or climate or indigestion, and returned to the meeting, and tried very hard not to think further of it. Until the next time.

They were waiting at the city gates, some of the troops were late and Lothar was getting impatient.  And Khadgar was bored and restless again, and he became fixated on the little stream of perspiration on Lothar’s neck that ran down from his ear and into the collar of his undershirt and it had set in motion a thought that evolved into an image of each layer of armour and underclothing being removed, one by one, to slide down over those long, strong arms.

He imagined those big, deadly hands undoing the sash around his waist so that the inner vest fell open and amazingly Khadgar was naked beneath, with no undergarments at all, just masses of perspiring skin, and then he raised one hand to rub his palm across Khadgar's stomach and chest, wiping the perspiration with the sash that was wrapped around his hand, while the other cupped his own balls, fingers stroking through damp pubic hair to take his cock in hand and squeeze it until it was hard and ready for….

And then Khadgar was almost falling off his horse, needing to relieve himself again with a concerned Lothar asking if he needed to see a healer, with this constant need to empty his bladder?  Poor, innocent, deluded Lothar.  _A healer is obviously not what I need…_


End file.
